


Amen

by forgivemeremus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on a song, I'm Sorry, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, i have bpd that's why it prob seems like rem does too lol, i never thought i'd write a dead sirius fanfic, literally all angst and hurt I'm sorry, self harm tw, suicidal ideation tw, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgivemeremus/pseuds/forgivemeremus
Summary: Remus can't sleep and everything reminds him of Sirius, he drinks and has a mental breakdown.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Amen

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Amen by Amber Run.  
> This is my first fic and I know it's not great but I'm uploading it for posterity :0)  
> find me on tumblr @/questionten

Remus sat on this bed a hundred times before, staring out this same window at these same stars. But those times, the thick velvet curtains were buffeted by the wind rather than unceremoniously gathering dust on the floor. Then, the brightest star shone bright as sun beyond the window pane. This time, the darkness of the night suffocated rather than cushioned, the silence piercing rather than caressing. He had torn the curtains from the window weeks before in a state much like the one he was in now. The fluttering velvet too reminiscent of the veil that stole his love without fanfare, unapologetically, unflinchingly. Since that night he had tried to fuck him out of his mind, but one lay sent that solution far from his mind. He’d drunk his way through the days, and the draught of the living dead got him through these nights - oppressive and far, far too loud. But he’d run through his sleeping potion and tonight, each time he closed his eyes, Sirius lit up behind them; those grey eyes filling him with a crimson rage, a burgeoning hurt. Since the veil closed in on him, Remus had taken to praying to a god he didn’t believe in, as he had when his mother was sick all those years ago; a god he couldn’t believe in once his body began to expand and contract with the moon. Sometimes on his knees on the splintered wooden floors, sometimes shouting, often tucked into a far off recess as he tried to go about his business as usual, he prayed. 

God, why did you take him from me? Amen.   
God, where do you hide? Amen.   
God, why would you put him through this hell and hell and hell and then kill him like a fly? Amen. 

Amen. Never said with finality, never with peace, or love. Always a bite of venom. Remus’ amens were accusations. Were spits in the mud. Were venom.

With the stars he now hated dancing outside the room he wished he could hate, with Sirius himself embossed behind Remus’ eyelids, Remus groped the side table for his fire whiskey. He took several deep draughts in an effort to quiet the memories of heaving breath in this very same bed, to drown out the tender shuddering breaths with his own deep sobs. He had taken refuge here in Sirius’ bedroom every night since he left. In every gust of wind, Remus jumped and searched the room, convinced he’d heard Sirius call his name. In every dancing shadow and passing headlight, convinced Sirius was tiptoeing across the room. Another trick of the light. 

God, please bring him back to me. Amen. 

The devil had burrowed himself in the folds of Remus’ brain, scorching his disposition. He snapped, always enraged, always inebriated - at the mention of Sirius, at the mention of loss, at the mention of sobering up.   
Losing Sirius was so sudden, so swift, so complete it didn’t feel like an end. How could it? He’d never said goodbye. 

God, why couldn’t he stay home? This once? This one fucking time, just sat tight, waiting for me. For me. Amen. 

Remus felt his hurt and pain and loss and grief and longing and loneliness reach a crescendo to a deafening dynamic, and he began to beat his temple with the heel of his palm. Beating back the emotion to stave off the impending explosion. And he had to stave it off, or Walburga would hear him and add her wail to the cacophony already trying to suffocate him. He shut his eyes so hard spots shimmered. Sirius you need to leave. He told the man behind his eyelids. You did this to me. You left me. Why did you leave me? Why, why, why-  
“FUCK!” Remus flung the fire whiskey bottle in his fist at the wall and it burst, sending glass and burning alcohol in every direction. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Get out of my head!”  
“FILTHY HALF BREED! DEFILING MY HOUSE!”  
“The werewolf has soiled my mistresses home, oh what would she say if-”

Collapsing at the shrapnel, Remus grabbed a fistful of glass and held it with a viselike grip in his fist, sobbing loudly into the wailing, biting, bitter shouting. 

God, I can’t stay here anymore. Amen.  
God, I need you to take me too. Please kill me now, God. Please. Amen.   
Amen. Amen. Amen. 

Stumbling past the shouting elf, past his furious mistress, Remus threw himself out the front door, heavy rich blood streaming from his still tightly closed fist as he screwed up his face and, with what little clarity remained in the back of his mind, spun on the spot and fell to the ground beside the garden of Tonks, now too weak, too dizzy, and sobbing too hard and bleeding too freely to regain his footing. A door creaked open and a shocked Nymphadora poked her head toward the disturbance.

“Remus? Rem?!” Her frantic voice cracked with exhaustion. “You’re bleeding, come inside, come here. It’s okay Remus, you’re okay.” She ran to where he lay on his hands and knees without a shirt, blood pooling menacingly beneath him.   
As she dragged him inside all he could say was, “I’d rather be dead. I’d rather be dead.”  
Tonks led him to a couch and lowered him, crouching at his feet and muttering incantations into his palm where the bleeding was staunched and his skin stitched itself together.  
His muscles all coiled, defensive, his eyes still tightly shut against the barrage of seeping thoughts, breath shallow.  
“Remus,” she whispered, fingers lightly tracing his new angry puckering scar. “Remus tell me what’s going on.”  
“I can’t do this, Dora.”  
“Do what?”  
“Do you have a drink?”  
She hesitated. He stank already of fire whiskey and sweat, but his trembling vulnerability drew pity. “Sure. Accio fire whiskey.” The bottle whizzed through the air and she unscrewed the top, placing it in his hand. He drank down a quarter of the bottle. She waited for him to wipe his mouth and take several deep breaths before asking again. “What can’t you do?”  
“I don’t know how to stay here without him.” He sobbed, eyes still shut. “What am I supposed to do? He was my reason. And, and now he’s-” he couldn’t go on.  
“I know. I know how hard this is for you and how deeply you’re hurting. And I’m so sorry Rem.”  
“I’d rather be dead. At least then I’d be with him.”  
“Don’t say that.” She whispered.  
He punched the arm of the couch. “I mean it! Dora what is the point? It’s such a cruel fucking place. He suffered, suffered all his -” he hiccuped “his bloody life, and once we found each other life whisked him away like litter in the wind and when he came back to me, hurt, so hurt, it buffeted him off again. Forever.” He took another swig of the liquor in his fist. “How - how cruel?” He slurred.

“I know. And I wish I had the answers for you. But I know you were the best part of his life. You were his life. And that’s not cruel. You saved him. All the time.”  
He choked out a constricted laugh. “But I didn’t fucking save him did I? Because he came. And I wasn’t covering him and he - he just fell away. Sometimes I feel like, like maybe he never even existed. Like I just made him all up.”  
“You didn’t. He was here, he is very real.”  
“Or I expect him to walk through the door. Like he’s just been out this whole time. I can’t - I can’t tell what’s real anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating every moment.”

Dear god, please let everything fall away. Make everything quiet. Amen.

With his free hand he dug his nails into his arms, trying to overwhelm his senses, to shock himself back into a dissociative state where nothing could penetrate his walls. Amen, amen, amen, amen, amen.


End file.
